curtains drawn back

in winter’s bluster,

prior to even

a hint of dawn,

rare and intermittent

proof of life

the fragrance

of my husband’s coffee

as he tosses the grounds

into the trash

thrift shopping

with the neighbor down the street

blue, her favorite color

seeping dreams

pepper a raisin sky

*

Common Nighthawk

awaits the dawn

*

plum-tinged brushstrokes

erase the darkness

baby’s breath links arms in spring bouquet

tender shoots spill over simple vessel

lovers embrace beneath sweeping boughs

snow-melt flows

into the streets

traces of winter

edge crusted walks

sunlight resets dormant

inner timekeepers,

urging us toward

the fresh promise

of spring

winter moon

the coyotes

cry